A Jori period drama
by High tower girl
Summary: Set in victorian London. First fic; working progress; only at prologue at this point in time :


Chapter I - Prologue

James West was a man of stately background; the son of a wealthy lawyer. Throughout his life he was raised on one motto: wealth meant success. He was tutored by the finest teachers in the country, and soon learnt the ways of law, business and social status. This turned him cold-hearted and selfish – seeing little beyond his hunger for money. He learnt the rules and regulations of the aristocrats; through false smiles and deceiving manners, he earned his place as a respected young man of the upper class social hierarchy; just as his father was. It was when he moved to London, a mere 22 year old, to pursue a career in banking, which his life changed.

It was a grey, December morning of 1867, and as James stepped out of his smart, terraced Georgian house, he realised he owed his parents a Christmas greetings card. That morning he took a detour from his usual carriage-driven journey to the bank, and instead walked through the dark, cobblestone London streets until he came across a suitable gift emporium. He browsed through the garish greetings cards, and plucked out one depicting a sickly image of two rosy-cheeked children gathered around a fireplace. Sighing (Mr West despised wasting money on such atrocities), he strode over to the till; and was met with the glint of two crystalline eyes. Eyes of such deep beauty – deep, velvety greys underlined the sparkling shards of blue, creating a lustrous effect. He was entranced.

'That will be four shillings, please sir'

James was sucked out of the void of dark, sparkling pigment as the soft voice rang through the stale air of the shop. The shop assistant gazed at him coolly. She had dark, mahogany hair, pale, marble skin, and of course grey yet startling eyes.

James cleared his throat.  
>'Yes…of course'. He fumbled with his wallet, realising that his hands were less steady than normal. As the shop assistant's eyebrows rose nonchalantly, he started to sweat, despite in the cold, dank atmosphere.<p>

As he finally plucked out the coins, he attempted some small-talk.

'Four shillings for a flimsy piece of card…my goodness….what's the use of a Christmas card anyway? The image is just…embarrassing, terrible artistry in my opinion, and it's just another letter I have to waste ink on-'

James stopped his ramblings, as he realised the shop girl's glare had become hostile enough to look almost penetrative.

'For your information, sir, I designed and hand –painted all of those cards' she growled.

James' face drooped, and he felt a stab of shame. He quickly handed her the shillings, (and also parted reluctantly with a few more valuable coins as an apology) grabbed the card and hastily retreated out of the shop.

That night he dreamt of dark, granite eyes, and although his first encounter with the girl had not exactly gone well, James could was fascinated by the girl, and continued to visit the shop.

Over the weeks, they at first exchanged snarky, insulting comments, which evolved into more light-hearted, agreeable conversation, and throughout the course of the year they became unlikely friends.

Her name was Grace Argyle. Although born into a more modest background than James, she had just as high-aiming dreams. While he chased money and power, she yearned to become a more appreciated artist, something beyond cheap Christmas card designs. Although at first James had mocked her ambition, he had learned to appreciate her artistic skill. She was indeed, a fine painter – James realised this when he received a portrait of himself in the post.

As they began to see each other more and more, Grace was able to unlock the softer heart of Mr West from underneath his stony exterior. James began to spend less time counting his coins and managing his bank account, and more time indulging Grace with gifts and evenings out.

2 years of this continued, and James finally proposed to Grace. They married in secret, (as James' family would be sure to disown him if they found out that he had married a 'commoner') and Grace happily moved into James' Camden house, which seemed quite luxurious after a life in a dark, east-London apartment.

Then came the day when they discovered Grace's pregnancy. Although the matter, in normal circumstances, would be a reason to celebrate, in this case it came as a grievous situation. Grace became weak and ill with the child; the doctor had to tell the couple the dreaded news that she would either have to have the foetus destroyed, or it would destroy her. James desperately willed Grace to save her life and not the child, but she insisted the child to be born, otherwise she would live a life of depression and regret. James could not deny her pleas.

Jade West was born on a bleak February day. Her grey eyes were solemn and watering, and her tiny hands grasped at the mother whose life was soon ebbing. The life draining out of her mother's eyes was the first thing Jade saw of her mother, and the last.

James was left with a widow, as vulnerable as the child. Although James had sworn he would devote his life to raising the child, he had instead turned to his cabinet of whiskey and sherry, numbing the pain of his deceased wife.

The child was sent to a nursery, followed by a boarding school; and was not to see her father again for many years…


End file.
